


Hell Bent

by Nym



Series: Hell Bent & Heaven Sent [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6493930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nym/pseuds/Nym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many years ago, Rumpelstiltskin killed Killian Jones in cold blood while his lover watched.  Now Milah, Captain Hook, is hell bent on vengeance.  AU of a scene from season 2 requested by Tumblr user <strong><a href="http://defyaugury.tumblr.com/">defyaugury</a></strong>.  "Hell Bent & Heaven Sent" part 1.</p><p>
  <em>Behind Hook, Belle sees her tremble. Rage, she supposes. Nothing can frighten her, not any more. She's barely human in her bloody thirst for revenge. Belle wishes she felt relieved to see Rumple, but she only feels safer. Her throat is still tight with dread.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You look different in this world," Milah says, watchful and still. "Like the coward and cripple I endured so long ago." She nods towards him with tight scorn. "Limp. I could tell this pretty girl a few things about being married to you, couldn't I? Or maybe she's found out for herself what sort of a man you are."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell Bent

**Author's Note:**

> **None of my fanfiction may be reposted or otherwise shared elsewhere, including translations and audio recordings, unless you have my written consent. Using my occasional original ideas/characters in your own fanfic, to make your own words or art or whatever, is fine with me.**

"Rumple needs that!" Belle tries to grab for the shawl but the pirate is too fast for her, whipping the cloth behind her back and blocking the doorway with her body.

"Oh, Rumple always needs something. There's no end to what Rumple _needs_." Captain Hook needs no weapon to keep a foe at bay. Her voice can do it, her venom and the flash of her eyes.

Only then does Belle understand that Hook is quite sane, quite rational in spite of all that she's done and means to do. The hate, the vengeful bloodlust, it's something she wears about her the way Rumple wraps himself in his magic, for protection and power. For a purpose. It intimidates, it warns. It warns Belle that her life may be measured in seconds because this woman is a killer, cold and hard. She forces herself not to glance at the gun Rumple gave her. She tries not even to think about how she put it down to search for the shawl. Even the thought might draw the pirate's eye to it, and Belle wouldn't make it if she tried to grab it. And, really, what would she do with it if she managed to get to it first? "I made this," Hook says, quite mildly. Almost conversationally.

Belle is startled. Quiet words when she half expected sudden death. She couldn't speak if she wanted to, and she refuses to give Hook the satisfaction of a squeak of fright. The other woman rolls her eyes and dangles the shawl between them, draped through the steel hook that she has in place of her left hand. "This," she says, speaking slowly, exaggerated, as if to a fool. "I made it for my baby."

Of course. That's what makes this so hard, and why she hasn't been as afraid as she ought to be until right now. Captain Hook was once Milah, was once Rumple's wife. Once, she sat and wove a soft shawl for the son they didn't have yet, and surely she poured her love and all her hopes and happiness into the cloth, the stitching. Seeing her now, black leather and bitter scorn, you can see nothing of the mother she once was. But Belle knows better than anyone that the truth about a person doesn't lie skin deep. It can be buried, masked, even lost and forgotten.

"Rumple needs that to find his son," Belle begins, and knows at once that the words are wrong. That they betray her, both her allegiance and her judgement.

" _My_ son," Milah replies, her voice low and dangerous. "Or did Rumple 'forget' to tell you that?"

Her scorn provokes Belle to anger, to a place somewhere past her immediate fear of death.

"He told me," she says, lifting her chin defiantly. "How you abandoned them both because you didn't like being married to a coward."

"And now he has you. Let me tell you now, little girl, he isn't worth it." She tosses the shawl from her hook to her hand, crushing the cloth in her fist. She wears so many silver rings that you can barely see her fingers, and Belle knows from experience what sort of a blow she can strike with them. "No amount of magic will ever grow that man a backbone. Why do you run after him? Is this town so hard up for good men? I have a ship full." She looks thoughtful. "Had. I suppose they're here in this town if they didn't escape the queen's curse. Maybe I can introduce you."

It seems to Belle that she's spent less of her own life running after Rumpelstiltskin than the pirate has.

"All this because he took your hand?" Even as she says it, Belle knows it can't be the reason and has an inkling of what is. Rumple told her the truth, just not enough of it. "Because he wasn't the husband you could love?"

"He _murdered_ the only man I ever loved," spits Milah, enraged. "He crushed my Killian's heart in his hand while I watched, while he begged on his knees for the Dark One to spare _me_. That's reason enough, little girl. All the reason I need to tear out his heart in return." The venom drains out of her. For a moment, she's almost lovely, her raven hair running to grey at the temples and her cheeks flushed. "To kill him I have to take the dagger from him first." She turns her wrist outward, showing where she has the image of the Dark One's dagger tattooed into her very flesh, complete with Rumpelstiltskin's name. Belle can't help but wonder at that, that Hook would brand herself with the name of the husband she despised, the way any other sailor might bear the name of a sweetheart. "But to crush his heart I only need to take _you_ from him, don't I?" She smiles, settling her shoulders and taking a step forward. "That won't be half so difficult."

"It won't bring your love back to you," Belle gasps, feeling the world slow as her every sense looks for a way out of this cabin alive. She backs herself into a shelf and feels like small prey when Milah moves to keep her in sight, within striking distance. Slowly, fumbling in her terror, not needing to pretend that she doesn't have a plan, Belle inches herself towards the door. "Whatever you do to me, it won't make you feel any better and it _won't_ undo what Rumple did."

"No," Milah agrees, conversational. Casual. Murder is a small thing to her. "But wherever Killian is now, he'll _really_ enjoy it."

Now Belle's back is to the door and Hook faces her, confident that she's going nowhere. She's right. The woman's greater height is all the advantage she needs in the cramped space. Belle might make it to the ladder, to the hatch, but no further. She lunges to her left for the gun, but Milah moves so fast, throwing her back against the wall to keep her from reaching it first. Mocking, she drops the shawl in its place as though daring Belle to try for it.

"A pretty toy." The pirate examines the gun, grinning. "I think I see the way of it." She juggles the weapon into her good hand, feels her way to the trigger and then levels the gun at Belle's head. "I like this world. Perhaps I'll stay when Rumple's dead."

There's a safety catch. Belle is hazy on a lot of things about this world, a lot of the made-things, but she knows you can't fire the gun as she left it. Hook's finger caresses the trigger, but nothing will happen if she squeezes. Will it? Belle's heart seems to think it will, thundering beneath her ribs so hard and fast that she feels sick, dizzy. She can't count for long on the pirate having difficulty with the unfamiliar weapon, but perhaps a moment will be long enough. The cabin is neat and full of goods, a place for everything, and a long oar is stowed above her head, hanging where it can be grabbed with ease. Above Belle's head, but at head-height to the taller pirate if she gets the angle right...

"Will you go looking for your son after you murder his father?" she asks, and she can't help her own scorn. Who abandons their _child_ for a man she likes, or because of one she doesn't? Her tone angers the pirate, turns her blue eyes piercing with hate.

"Better me than Rumple. Whatever makes him think that Baelfire _wants_ to see him again? I know better." The gun steady in her right hand, Milah brings her hook over her heart in place of a clenched fist. She leans forward from the hips for emphasis and spits, "I'm his _mother_."

"You're a monster."

Belle grabs the oar and swings it hard, angling it for the pirate's forehead. She sees it hit lower than she meant, between the eyes, the top of Milah's nose, sending her flying backwards in a spray of blood to an open hatch where she falls, grabbing ineffectually for the ladder. She knows this ship as if it were her own body, Belle realises; blinded and stunned, Milah knew where she was and exactly what was to hand. Somehow that terrifies her most of all.

Snatching up the shawl, Belle runs from the sound of groggy cursing and scrabbling below. She scrambles up the short ladder to the deck and looks about her. Hide or flee? She starts for the gangplank, her vision blurry with fright and dripping sweat. How far does she need to get to be out of the range of that gun?

Captain Hook steps out, it seems from nowhere, and blocks her way.

"I don't think so, little girl." She pushes Belle back a step, hook against her chest. "And give me that. I don't want to get blood all over my little boy's shawl."

Defiant, eyes further blurring with tears at her helplessness, shivering with fear and with cold, Belle hides the shawl behind her back.

"No. You've hurt Rumple enough." That gives her a little strength, lets her take a deeper breath and steady herself. She can always find a little more courage for Rumple's sake.

"Not nearly enough," Milah snarls. "But your death will be a good start. We'll call it a down payment on our future." The gun hanging loosely in her right hand, she raises her hook instead, ready to slash Belle across the face.

"Our future." The voice is quiet. Sardonic. Rumpelstiltskin's. Hook spins to face him, not bothering with the gun. "Yes, let's talk about that."

Behind Hook, Belle sees her tremble. Rage, she supposes. Nothing can frighten her, not any more. She's barely human in her bloody thirst for revenge. Belle wishes she felt relieved to see Rumple, but she only feels safer. Her throat is still tight with dread.

"You look different in this world," Milah says, watchful and still. "Like the coward and cripple I endured so long ago." She nods towards him with tight scorn. "Limp. I could tell this pretty girl a few things about being married to you, couldn't I? Or maybe she's found out for herself what sort of a man you are."

As if taunts would ever unsettle Rumple. Only someone he loves has that power over him, and Belle knows that the people who hold that power number only two. Perhaps Milah held it in her hands once, but all his tenderness for her is gone, burned away by betrayal. Now he looks at her with scorn in equal measure to hers. With revulsion, his lips parted and his eyes narrowed.

"I'm gonna say this once," he says, unmoved and unmoving. "Stay away from Belle. If anything happens to her, whether I think you're behind it or not, you'll find out just what sort of man I am. And you helped make me, Milah. You shaped me with your own hands. You think on that." He points at her, an emphasis, a warning, then he extends the black-gloved hand and offers it to Belle. She runs to his side, her knees weak as water, and feels him grasp her arm. It doesn't hurt, but she knows that nothing will break that hold on her until Rumpelstiltskin is ready to let go.

Hook squares her shoulders. Assesses. Dashes the blood from her face with her wrist as if she barely notices it except that it obscures her vision.

"She'll leave you too," she says, simply. "Everyone does. You can hide behind your magic like the coward you are, but it can't protect you from _that_."

Belle feels Rumple flinch. She doubts there was anything to see, anything to reward Milah for her words, but Belle feels it through his rigid hold on her arm. It's as if the man inside him, the simple man from before all the magic, staggers from a blow.

"Drop the gun," he says, almost through clenched teeth. Milah does, and even kicks it towards them with a derisive little flick of her shiny boot. Belle scoops it up, tugging against Rumple's iron hold on her as she does so. He doesn't even bend. "I won't warn you a second time," he says, eyes never leaving Hook's. Belle feels a shudder in him, subtle and buried in his bones. She lays her hand over his on her arm. "I became the man you always wanted me to be, Milah. You know what I'm capable of."

For just a moment, the pirate looks afraid. Belle sees it clearly in her eyes, though it manifests itself outwardly as no more than a twitch of her cheek. She has lovely cheekbones, Belle realises, still seeing with the clarity of terror. She must have been so beautiful before she put on this mask of pure hatred, hell bent on her revenge.

"I know what you're capable of, Dark One," Hook answers, the fear brushed away in a blink and her voice like ice. Then she smiles, a leering, cruel smile, and her eyes flicker towards Belle then back to Rumple's. The smile turns to a look of pure, satisfied malice. "Does _she?_ "


End file.
